


Untouchable

by DynamicKea



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Gen, Intangibility, Wind Elemental Martyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DynamicKea/pseuds/DynamicKea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby woke up. He was in his sleeping bag.</p>
<p>To be precise, inside the fabric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untouchable

Wherever Toby was, it was not a good place to be. For one, it was very dark. Very, _very_ dark. This place was darker than a starless lake, darker than coal, darker even than enderman skin. There weren’t any textures in the sneering night. The darkness pressed at Toby’s eyes as if someone had snuck up on him and painted a black and featureless wall on the bridge of his nose.

With a sleep induced and foggy calm, Toby rubbed his eyes. No, there wasn’t any grit or dust in the corners of his eyelids. That, that _was_ a little bit strange, come to think.

Toby blinked several times. With each blink he pressed his eyelids tighter against one another. Each blink provided no change, poking him closer and closer to worried alertness. Nothing changed. Apart from Toby’s eyelids gaining bright sparks that were residing solely in his head, nothing happened.

_What the hell?_

_‘Toby? Oh, christ, Toby?!’_

‘Martyn!’

_‘Oh, good, where are you? Did you get stuck in a hole again?’_

Martyn’s voice sounded strangely blurred, but that was a good point. Maybe he was in a hole again. Toby quickly reached out, trying to find the edges of his prison.

Nothing.

‘Martyn, I, I don’t know where I am!’ Toby said. He flailed at the blackness around him. _Did I go blind?!_ ‘Martyn I’m _lost_.’

_‘I’ll find you, Toby! Just keep yelling. It sounds like you’re still in the camp.’_

‘It, it’s really dark. _Really_ dark. Is it night-time?’

_‘Nah, it’s morning. Keep talking, you sound close.’_

‘Um.’ Toby reached forward again, desperately focusing with every sense he had.

Sight? Nope, just empty black and flat darkness. Smell? No dice either, although the air did feel muggy. Sound? There was Martyn, a strange faint rustling, and that was about it. Touch? Nothing. Come to think, it didn’t even feel like he was sitting on anything. Or even lying on anything, since his sense of gravity was telling him he was on his back. Hey, one of his senses was useful! Huzzah! What else could help, maybe taste? No, there was only the muggy feeling of the morning.

‘I don’t know,’ Toby said. ‘I have no idea where I am. Wait. Am I in a grave? No, no no, Martyn I don’t want to be buried alive!’

Footsteps plodded near him, and a soft huff of laughter came from above. _‘Very funny, Toby. Get out of your sleeping bag already. We’ve got mobs to take care of; you can’t just sleep all day.’_

‘What?’ Toby blinked several time, struggling to get his eyes to focus on anything but the flat, horrible blackness. ‘I’m not in my sleeping bag....’

Martyn’s strangely muffled voice laughed. _‘Yeah, sure, come on Toby-’_

A sweep of rustling and a blinding light enveloped him. Toby flinched, arms involuntarily rising and slamming to cover his forehead. ‘Ow,’ he muttered.

‘Uh. What?’ Martyn said. His voice was no longer muffled or joking, but it did hold a large degree of uncertainty in his tone. ‘...Toby? Are, do you feel alright...?’

‘Yeah, just blind, a bit deaf. Ugh, where am I?’

Toby’s eyes focused. Martyn was the first thing he spotted, floating above Toby’s head with a frown on his face. The wind elemental ducked down a bit lower. Toby noted the tent walls, and the sleeping bag that was grasped in his friend’s hands.

‘Huh. Why was it so dark in my tent?’ he said, sitting upright.

His head passed clean through Martyn’s’ leg.

Toby didn't have time to flinch away as he sat up. One second there was Martyn's foot right in front of his eyes. Next was a split second of flat blackness, and then he was staring at the opposite side of the tent.

Neither of them moved.

'...Martyn?' Toby said, his words slow and being double checked with every syllable. 'Is your foot in my head?'

'...Yes.'

'Oh. Could you, could you not do that?'

Martyn hovered backwards, landing just in front of Toby. The soft wind that had been humming on the edge of Toby's hearing faded away. With a large helping of hesitance, Martyn reached forward to poke Toby's shoulder.

His finger went straight through.

'Ok. Well. What, what the hell?' Martyn said.

Toby stood rapidly, shoving one hand to press against the tent walls. Where he expected pressure to land against his hand, none came, leaving Toby off balance and toppling through and out of the tent.

Landing painfully against the grassy ground, Toby groaned. 'Martyn, you better be pranking me. This _better_ be a very massive, very well planned prank that you're going to _stop_ now because this is _not_ funny!'

Martyn drifted out of the tent, through the front as opposed to Toby's unorthodox exit through the wall. 'I swear this wasn't me, Toby. If I could make you walk through walls, don't you think I'd do that to me first? Imagine the pranks I could pull by stealing from your bag without touching it....'

'How do we fix this? And also, _what_ happened? Am I a ghost or something?'

It was this that made Martyn freeze. Dropping in front of Toby, he attempted to grab Toby's shoulders and shake them. Instead his hands went straight through Toby's arms and waved around inside them. Beyond a small grimace, Martyn ignored this. 'No! Toby, you're _not_ allowed to be dead! There wasn't anything to kill you, you can't be a ghost!'

'I'm walking through _walls!_ Pretty sure that means I'm a ghost.'

Martyn shook his head so vehemently, it looked like he head was about to come off. 'No, look at you. You _look_ solid. You don't look like a ghost or anything transparent.'

'So what? I'm just un, un-something. What's the word when you can put things through you and they come out the other side?'

'Stabbing?'

Toby snapped his fingers. 'Intangible. Yeah, I'm _only_ intangible, even though that's what ghosts do?'

'Ghosts are dead, you aren't. You just can't touch stuff.' Martyn glanced down, picked up a rock, and aimed at Toby.

'Don't you dare,' Toby said, hands rising in a futile attempt to ward the rock off.

The rock sailed straight between Toby's hands, his rib cage, and landed somewhere behind him.

‘Feel that?’ Martyn said.

Toby shook his head, prodding at his ribs. They were intact and solid under his hands. ‘Nope. This is _weird_ , I really don’t like this.’

‘Now, hang on….’ Martyn reached down and grabbed a stick. He started stabbing at Toby’s feet, watching as the stick struck against the ground under Toby. ‘Toby, if you’re not able to touch stuff, then how are you standing? What are you standing on?’

Toby frowned. Carefully he shifted his weight onto one leg and prodded at the ground with the other. His toes went straight through the grass.

‘New rule, don’t ever bring that up again. I don’t want to hang out in the centre of the planet,’ Toby said. If he could see himself, he would have noticed that he had gone a bit pale. Not of course the paleness of otherworldly spirits, but of general fear.

‘R-right. What else can go through you?’

‘Martyn….’

‘What? We’ve got no way to fix this and no idea how it started. You’re not _dead_ , or dying or anything, there’s nothing that we need to panic about.’ Martyn shrugged. ‘We may as well have fun with this.’

Toby crossed his arms, trying to ignore how his feet were somehow accepting the ground as solid. ‘...Fine, but if this lasts more than a day, we _need_ to go get some help.’

Martyn grinned and took to the sky, darting to grab his sword. ‘Right! Now, let’s practice your dodging!’

The wind that curled under Martyn’s heels kicked up leaves that passed clean through Toby. He didn’t feel a single one, although the flash of darkness that he saw when a leaf went through his eyes was not enjoyable.

Toby sighed, and then headed over to his sword. If this weird intangibility was letting him touch the ground, maybe he could trick it into letting him grab his weapons.

...And maybe some breakfast.

****  
  



End file.
